It was the second day and the sunshine had been replaced by torrential rain. It was pissing it down. Obviously – this is England. T and I lit the fire so we could mooch around without layering up, and before long, the cabin warmed up nicely. Over breakfast, T said that she had an idea for the morning and wondered if I was game.
“I’m intrigued,” I mused as I sipped my coffee, “what did you have in mind?”
“Well, sunshine, it involves you letting go a little, releasing yourself into my tender care. You have to trust me, even if you feel your comfort lines being pushed, which they will be,” she replied, looking me dead in the eye. “It’ll be fun, I promise,” she added, with a smile and an arched eyebrow.
My pulse raised slightly; I could almost feel the hairs on my body standing up a little. We’d been active but pretty vanilla so far, and I’d seen some of what was in the suitcase, none of which we’d used yet. The ante was now officially being upped. I took a breath and girded myself. “Okay, T. I surrender," I said. "For the morning, I’m yours to do with as you wish.”
“Excellent, you won’t regret it. When you’ve finished your coffee, go to the bathroom and have a shower. Wash yourself thoroughly. And I mean very thoroughly. Don’t bother getting dressed again when you come back.”
“As you wish,” I nodded, downing the last of my caffeine hit and padding off to do as I was told. I brushed my teeth, performed my ablutions, and stepped into the hot shower. I washed my hair and soaped myself all over before reaching for my razor and trimming around my cock and balls and under my taint before washing again. Just in case T had meant what I thought she’d meant, I soaped my arsehole liberally, reaching inside with a finger to make everything as clean as I could.
By the time I was done, I was relaxed but apprehensive, but excitedly so. I toweled off and re-emerged from the bathroom, naked as ordered. T had dropped the blinds part way down, so the room was half dark, and there were sofa cushions laid out on the floor with towels over the top.
“Lie on the cushions, on your front, but looking towards the window,” T ordered, assertive but warm.
I did so, making myself comfortable, hearing her kneel to my side, but where I couldn’t see her because of the way my face was pointed. I heard the pop of a plastic cap and then felt the trickling of a thick liquid across my back, cool but not unpleasant.
“Just relax,” T intoned, “and let me ease you into this,” as she started spreading what was evidently oil across my body. It smelled of coconut, and T was liberal in the application, slathering me with it so it filled the warm air with its sweet aroma.
She started working it into my lower back, pressing hard but not hurting, kneading out the tensions there, and working her way up in firm, V-shaped strokes out from my spine and towards my neck. She was pressing harder now, and I could tell that she knew what she was doing. I moaned a little at the pleasure – and slight pain – of it.
“That’s the spirit; lean in,” she purred, applying more oil to her hands and working it up my ribs and sides, which made me tense and laugh because I’m super ticklish.
“Noted,” T chuckled. “I’ll press harder so it doesn’t tickle.”
She rubbed oil up my sides and under my arms, then all the way down my forearms to my hands. She dedicated a little time to each hand in turn, pressing between the joints and pulling each digit so it clicked, and then made her way up again, thoroughly pushing and pulling every inch of my arms and shoulders.
I heard her move down to my feet and felt the oil being dribbled generously up my calves and thighs, and across my bum. A little trickled into my butt crack, which sent a small charge through me, changing the mood (or my mood, at least) slightly. T worked the oil into my feet and then calves, which had me squirming slightly as I carry a lot of tension there, and continued back over my calves and onto my hamstrings.
Applying even more oil to her hands, she started working it into my butt cheeks, pulling them open slightly from time to time during her ministrations which left me feeling vulnerable but a touch more excited. She then opened my legs slightly and spread the oil into my inner thighs, occasionally and almost accidentally (yeah, right!) brushing against my balls.
There was a pause and I heard the gloop of the bottle again before the hands returned, this time pressing deeper into my butt crevice, T’s fingertips caressing my taint and balls, and almost imperceptibly touching my anus at first. The touches became more pronounced, and before long, the attention was incessant as she opened my cheeks, stroking over and around my arsehole before she started to press inside.
I tensed up slightly at the unfamiliarity of this, and T leaned forwards, kissing my neck before whispering in my ear. “Let go, breathe out. It’s okay.”
I did so, forcing myself to relax, and as I did so T slid a finger into me, less than an inch. I kept breathing deeply and slowly, and T started moving her digit in and out, gently at first and then more diligently, in circles, getting me used to the sensarions. It was a new, vulnerable, but not unwelcome feeling, and I could feel myself hardening against the cushions.